


Feast of the Immortal

by kellyh000



Series: Kingsman fanfiction translations [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellyh000/pseuds/kellyh000
Summary: The story of a very complicated relationship. Namely, Harry/ Eggsy/ Merlin.P.S. Merlin has a secret (which can be found in the work title).
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Kingsman fanfiction translations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153973
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is originally by 小逸， thank you so much for letting me translate your story.  
> Original story (in Mandarin) link below:  
> [chapter 1~3](https://tuanuu.tw/kingsman-ch1/)  
> [chapter 4~5](https://tuanuu.tw/kingsman-2/)  
> [chapter 6~11](https://tuanuu.tw/kingsman-3/)

Wherever you go, death follows.

During the training of becoming a Kingsman agent, death is the first tough lesson you learn.

By making the appearance of a drowned recruit, they remind you that being a spy is not as glamourous as it looks. The shining parts of your career are just ghost fires shimmering in the abyss. From afar, everything looks bright, but the lights have no warmth in it.

After you join the Kingsman, even the service departments are not able to escape the hovering shadows of death.

They see even more deaths and they talk about it even more.

They have to fake their colleague’s cause of death to car accidents instead of gun-shot wounds.

They have to put on black suits for mourning, knock on doors and listen to the widows weep. They are gentlemen, so they carry an extra handkerchief in their breast pockets.

The handkerchiefs were never for themselves. Never.

And aside from death of others, Kingsman agents talk about their own death even more. Fantasizing how they will die has always been a part of the agents’ dark humor.

Some think that they will go out in a bang, like covering a grenade to save their colleagues. Others fear that they will die for a stupid reason. Legends have it, one of the round table knights, Sir Tristan died for the wrong color on a boat. And Tristan of Kingsman died just as idiotically.

They agreed to never speak of Tristan. Never. 

One day, Harry stood behind the bar and made a Martini with leisure. Merlin leaned on the counter and swallowed everything the man presented him. They talked about the new recruits and drunkenly switched the topic to death when they had nine or ten Martinis.

They talked about how a young life was taken away so soon after he received his title and argued whether they should keep using the title or not.

“Names are a curse,” Merlin was beyond drunk, his usual calmness and elegance was nowhere to be found. He grunted out, “names are just a curse that come out of others’ mouth. People call and you call back.” Merlin set the glass down with unnecessary force, “The name’s got bad luck.”

“Actually, most of the knights at the round table didn’t end well.” Harry was still sober enough to point out. “I can’t believe you’re a superstitious scientist. Names are not a curse; they’re just names.” His words were sharp, yet his tone was gentle. He understood that the Quartermaster needed to get drunk every now and then. That was why he was standing behind the bar, making the man Martinis. He knew that when people got drunk enough, their senses get dulled, so they wouldn’t have to hear the howls in pain or the calm, collected farewells of the dying.

Harry blamed the Quartermaster’s psychological trauma on the top-quality earpieces.

No one can remain indifferent while listening to your friend’s breathing dying down.

“Names are a curse,” Merlin stopped articulating clearly, but he slurred out anyway.

“If names were a curse, what does ‘Merlin’ mean?” Harry asked, but Merlin did not reply. Harry went on, “If names were a curse, Galahad’s not a bad name. He once held the Holy Grail and saw the angels’ glory. His soul ascended to heaven after atonement.”

“I hope when I die, the angel’s glory appears in the form of butterflies. Lots, and lots of butterflies.”

It was the only time when Harry spoke of his fantasy of death and the curses of names. After Harry died, Merlin did a research on butterflies in Kentucky. Much to his surprise, there was a place in Kentucky called ‘Butterfly’. Merlin knew that it was not logical at all, but he found some comfort in the fact, anyway.

Merlin knew that after the excess number of Martinis, Harry has been trying to get him to talk about curses of names, and also Merlin’s own death fantasies. Harry was a loving soul, and he knew that Merlin became Kingman agents’ unofficial therapist, but there was no one for him.

Hence, Harry was endeavoring to make Merlin talk. 

Merlin always danced around the topic and smiled. For a long period of time, it became their private joke. Harry would say, among a gun fight, “If I make it in 15 minutes, you’ll tell me the answer.” or “If I put down all the guards without tripping the alarm, you’ll tell me the answer.”

Merlin would bargain and give him an impossible timetable or number to let Harry know that he refused to answer.

It all happened when they were young. Harry was a man with perseverance and could ask the same question over and over again until they were old. But he was also a gentleman. If Merlin decided not to answer, he would not keep pushing him. 

After Harry died, Merlin went through his things. He sat in the room filled with butterflies and remembered that they haven’t talked about the curses in a name in a mission for a long time, and Harry stopped asking what his death fantasy was.

“Is this why you didn’t come back?”

Merlin knew it was illogical, but his thoughts couldn’t help but wander. It felt like they had forgotten to perform a ritual, so bad luck crept up to them.

Under the sunlight, a room of scales on the butterflies shone. He asked softly, “If I tell you the answer, will you come back to me?”

“To me, the name ‘Merlin’, meant more than just the wizard that was by King Arthur’s side. _Merlin_ represented magic…”

“Harry, you once said that I’m a superstitious scientist, but did you ever think that I came from superstitious? That I’m made by unexplainable magic?”

“Every Kingsman agent fantasies about their death, Harry, but I can’t join any conversation about death, because I cannot imagine something that will not happen. _Merlin_ means magic, and _Merlin_ will not die. That’s it. I’m immortal, that’s all.” Merlin sighed at the empty silence, “I told you my secret, but you’re still not here.”

* * *

Merlin has never discussed his own death with anyone in Kingsman, but he did with another person. Well, he wasn’t sure that the individual counts as a ‘person’, just like he wasn’t sure whether he counts as a ‘person’ or not.

Soon after WW1, Merlin wandered to a resort under reconstruction during his journey. He stumbled upon a woman who was as radiant as the sun. The moment he set his eyes on her, it was like the Apocalypse and for no reason he knew, “She’s like me. We are the same kind.”

Merlin always thought he’d meet his kind in some dingy, crowded bar. They’d buy each other a drink, lean on some tacky decoration and watch the smokes of cheap cigar rise up into the hazy lights to misguide the lost souls. They would exchange secrets and talk about their undying mystery, which was much scarier than dying itself in their own rights.

Certainly not by some ocean under the blue sky with seagulls flying in the air, leaning against the rocks on the shore, taking turns in sharing their undying journey.

“Die, and then you won’t even find a body. ‘Poof’ and wake up in some isolated area. Back to puberty and fucking naked…” 

“Start it all over.” Merlin finished her sentence, and then added. “I usually start over at around 30 years-old.” 

The lady who calls herself Alice muttered a few jealous words, like it must be nice to be able to reborn as an adult. She started to share her story. Merlin’s earliest memory dates back to William the fourth; he vaguely recalls himself being caught in a weird combat. However, Alice’s memories date back to the medieval era, back when people hunt for witches.

“I’ve been beheaded, burned, drowned…Well, amongst many, other ways. In conclusion, I’ve never stayed dead.” She shrugged, “They used all those fancy ways to kill me just because they think they’re executing a witch. I’ve been framed and killed so many times those years…but my headless corpse vanished, so I suppose it does make sense to call me a witch?”

“I’ve been stomped to death by a cow before,” Suddenly, they’re sharing their thoughts on dying, so Merlin had to share one of those more amusing ones.

The woman bought Merlin an orange and very considerately, peeled it open for him. The fragrance blended in the air around them, the salty seawater with oranges. “Sounds like I’m the older one? Then bear my advice: choose your job wisely.” 

“I’m currently wandering around aimlessly.” 

“Wandering aimlessly is not a career I recommend. And besides, it’s not a career at all.” Alice shook her head and put more oranges in Merlin’s bag. “The world is used to putting everyone in their place. If you don’t have a job or a tag, it attracts unnecessary attention…And also, you don’t have money to buy food. We don’t die, but we can’t survive on water like plants do.”

Merlin asked sincerely, “If I get a job and dies, what about the disappearance?”

They did not mention their families or lovers. Perhaps to those who do not die, any relationship is just like clothes or shoes that don’t fit. No need to torture both sides.

“I’m currently an author, and I sell antiques as well. You know, people are much more lenient to artists. I could live all alone and disappear without warning.”

Alice made a vanishing gesture, and she explained to Merlin, in great detail on how to take advantage of their undying status to sell antiques, how to plan out a life before ‘dying’, how to stash resources, how to regain their identities.

‘How does an immortal live?’

It was a paradoxical problem that troubled Merlin for quite a long time. They always revive soon after death, and Merlin once revived in a winter forest. He froze to death before he even left the forest, more than once. It was so stupid and awful, like a terrible joke made by Death himself. Merlin had also faked madness and pretended to be a hobo with brain injury, simply because he could not provide an identity.

Alice volunteered to stay with Merlin for a few days. There were no romance between them, only training. Alice taught Merlin everything how to live as an immortal.

Sometime, Merlin would think that his colleagues take him as ‘the fox with three hives’ and ‘always prepared’ was because of his lifetime-long practice. He was learning how to fake identities and preparing safe houses long before he became a spy. He did it to avoid death, and to prepare for the life after death.

If one day, he met Alice again, Merlin would like to tell his mentor, “I picked a job better than artist.”

Spies during the war, and secret agents during peace.

What a fantastic job! Even if you disappear without a trace, maybe someone would let out a wistful sigh for you, but no one will ask questions. As someone who did not worry about dying, he chose a job that could get him killed any second.

Merlin died so many times during the second World War, but all his superiors thought he merely escaped. Unbeknownst to them, Merlin was in grave danger for so many times. He merely shot himself before he was captured.

A neat escape trick that fucking hurts like a bitch.

Later, Merlin realized that being spies were still not good for immortals. Merin was not afraid of death because he was incapable of dying, but he could not explain why he disappeared instead of succumbing to his wounds and falling to the ground after being shot several times.

So he left the frontline to become the Quartermaster and worked behind the scenes. He still maintained his secret service status, so it was natural for him to keep his privacy and lived all alone.

During a not-so-pleasant incident with a mole, Merlin of MI6 vanished. Several bombs went off, so it was normal that no one could find a body. Later, Merlin quickly earned his place within Kingsman with his exceptional hacking skills and his strategic mind. The Arthur then joked, “Have _Merlin_ to be Merlin.”

Why, yes. Merlin’s real name was Merlin. In fact, he stopped remembering his birth name long ago. But during his days when he revived over and over again, he chose Merlin as his name almost every time. 

_Merlin_ was almost a synonym for magic, so whenever people call his name, it was like a spell, reminding Merlin that he was a wizard, not human.

Lovers, friends, partners, family…everything that makes human human, he should not have.

Even in one brief second, when you think that you grasped something, in the end, you’d have to let go. 

When Eggsy stepped onto that landmine, Merlin knew that his time was up.

It’s time for Merlin to leave.

So Merlin sang the country song before he stepped off the landmine, “Country road, take me home, to the place I belong…”

It was true that he had lived a life bustling with energy and color for too long, but he belonged with solitude. Through death, he would return where immortals meant to be.

Revive, and live his cold, life alone.

The moment he opened his eyes, Merlin felt the sharp pain in his lungs where air rushed in, he gasped and nearly teared up.

He looked up. The lights in the forest were dim, but he could still tell that it was near sunset. He struggled to get to his feet and during the process, he killed a few well-fed mosquitos that were too slow.

Once the sun sets, he could find a place where he could see the stars. He would figure out the directions and find the survival kits he previously hid in the woods.

Identification, cash, weapons, electronic, clothes and some makeup. His survival kit was similar to the ones agents use.

It must be why he loved to be a spy, and why he was good at being one. Merlin thought.

Merlin started to apply shaving cream on his face and took his time to shave his beard (which has been uncontrollable since his birth) in a Cambodia forest. He left a part of it unshaved for his disguise and turned on the laptop to access the satellites. He plugged in his earphones and chose an upbeat country song as the background music while he worked.

He had resurrected for too many times, and plus, he had abundant resources. In recent years, Merlin’s survival kit got more and more luxurious. He even prepared pajamas and a sleeping bag, let alone shaving cream and earphones. Although perhaps he should consider including mosquito repellents next time.

Merlin went on news websites to make sure Harry and Eggsy had saved the world. But he also saw news of Kingsman, the tailor shop starting to make wine…Merlin accessed the website of stock exchange companies and hacked into several companies’ systems. He discovered that Statesman was providing Kingsman funds, and the reconstructions were in place.

Merlin mused for a moment and crossed off one of the things on his to-do list.

The wealth an immortal could accumulate was beyond imagination, and for Harry and Eggsy, he would not hesitate to use his money, even if it cost him a few zeros. But Statesman had intervened first, so he did not have to risk blowing his cover to help Kingsman rebuild.

Merlin concentrated on arranging his new life. In a world of information explosion, each death and resurrect became more and more difficult. People cannot appear out of thin air without substantial background information. Luckily, he had been preparing fake identities like the oxford shoes he kept on the shelf that he never wore but kept in perfect condition.

The identities have more than IDs. They have education backgrounds, speeding tickets and even purchase history of credit cards.

All Merlin had to do was to step into his new identity like he was trying on a new pair of shoes.

He planned on entering Russia via China. He has an identity in Russia that he could use.

He thought about living in some place warm, like China or Thailand, but a foreign face attracts too much unwanted attention. Merlin had just ‘died’ and too many people knew him, so he needed to lay low for a while. 

Merlin started to regret when he set foot in the lumber yard by lake Onega. It was noon in September but it was 8 degrees Celsius. He couldn’t even bring himself to think about how cold it would be in the winter. Merlin has been avoiding living in the north or dying and resurrecting in a freezing wilderness with no clothes on.

Even after all these years, he still remembered how he died and revived again and again that time.

But among all the identities he had, the manager of the lumber yard was most prepared and thorough. Although the title ‘manager’ actually meant nothing but ‘handyman’. He had to do everything (except for cutting trees), from fixing the waterpipes to handing the employees’ paycheck by himself.

No one at the lumber yard knew that Merlin was the owner. They only knew that Merlin was a relative of the owner, and he had come to visit the yard once or twice every year in the owner’s place.

Merlin’s long stay at the lumber yard stirred up worry among people. The lumberjacks wondered if they were going to be fired or the yard was going to reconstruct.

They were anxious, but no one managed to get answer out of Merlin. The man was polite but an introvert, and he spoke so little about things other than work. 

But if the people in the lumber yard had paid attention, they’d notice Merlin asked only two questions that weren’t work-related.

The first one was: “How far is it from here to Sweden?”

And that night, one of the workers saw the news of the Swedish princess’ wedding.

The second question was: “Are there any special kind of butterflies around here?” 

This time, no one noticed any news regarding butterflies. But the truth was, the day Merlin asked the question, there was a news report that only lepidopterists would notice.

There was a rare kind of butterfly being named by its’ discoverer. It was named _Merlin_.

...tbc


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited: 2021/ FEB/19*  
> This story is not Brit-picked. (Also, I'm currently looking for a beta.)  
> Translating Mandarin to Eggsy's English (I still don't know what his accent is)...was more challenging that I thought.  
> ｡ﾟヽ(ﾟ´Д`)ﾉﾟ｡  
> I did my best though.  
> P.S. I'm going back to school...so I may need more time before updating a new chapter...

**Chapter 2**

Although Harry only had one eye left, he was observant enough to tell the changes in lights around him. Clouds began to cover the bright sun.

Aside from his sight, Harry could feel the moisture in the air that damped the heat from the sunlight, and there was enough water in the air for an upcoming rain.

Harry stood in the cemetery and raised his head to look at the sky far away. There was the rumbling of the storm and rain had already fallen somewhere in a distance.

The heavy mist of the rain was headed their way and would be sweeping over the world in no time.

Knowing that Eggsy would not move from the tombstone, Harry held up his umbrella to keep the rain from falling on him. Eggsy did not get a single drop of rain on him, but his face was covered with waterdrops.

Harry mused, perhaps he should put his umbrella away. A real gentleman knew how to be considerate and he wondered Eggsy would be embarrassed more for sobbing like a child or being drenched to the toe. If he got wet, all the waterdrops on his face were just evidence of a rain. No one cried, it was just a broken umbrella and a heavy rain.

Harry decided to put away his umbrella and let the tears of the sky fall. 

“This is all my fault,” Eggsy said, guilt evident in his voice, “Tilde wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for me.” 

“Her father ‘s the one who pulled the trigger,” Harry replied, matter-of-factly.

“She stood right in front of me, so bloody stupidly stood in front of a spy. She didn’t have to get involved in this. I could’ve handled it…she knows how good I am, she should’ve trusted me to handle it…”

But the truth was, Eggsy knew that Tilde only stood in front of him because she was confident that her father would not shoot her. But the last words she heard from her father was, “Did you know, my child? Did Eggsy ever tell you? That the last part of his training was to shoot the dog his raised.”

Boom.

The bullet flew. 

Eggsy couldn’t help but screamed. At the same time, the king yelled, “Guards! There’s an assassin! Terrorist!”

The king’s scream was full of horror, but the muscles on his face did not twitch for one second. He merely pulled off his gloves swiftly and sprayed something on them to remove gunshot residue.

Eggsy disregarded the footsteps of the incoming guards, and rushed to Tilde’s side. Her golden hair was covered in blood now. He took out the alpha gel he always had on him and right when he was about to continue the next step, Harry pulled out his gun and shot the windows. The window cracked, and Harry grabbed Eggsy. The two of them, along with glass shards crashed through the broken window.

Eggsy yelled, “Harry! The alpha gel on Tilde’s head! I haven’t…”

Harry yelled back, “If you get blown into pieces, there won’t be enough alpha gel for you on the entire planet! Tilde’s got her father. I think he knows how to use it!” Harry, having returned to Kingsman, posed as Eggsy’s private mentor to investigate the missing case of alpha gel and repair nanobots. They had a lead on one of the King’s guard… 

Well, they did not consider that it was the king himself who did it.

When they fell out of the hotel window, Harry believed that the king would use the gel to save his daughter. But how wrong he was.

News of the future Queen of Sweden, Princess Tilde murdered by terrorist during a visit in the US, her husband and his mentor were missing after an explosion splattered across media.

It was until then, Harry realized that he should never use normal people’s standards to measure how much evil humanity was capable of doing.

The love of a father has does not lie in blood. It lies in one’s heart.

How could someone with no love in his heart possibly be a loving father? The king could let his daughter die, just for some evil plan. 

For three months, Eggsy and Harry went into hiding and investigated under Kingsman and Statesman’s protection. In the meantime, it was enough for the soldiers of Tilde’s resting place to loosen up their guard. Harry had prepared four explosive perfumes, but much to their surprise, they only had to put down 15 people.

One bottle of perfume, boom, a blue fog.

The two of them were able to grieve in silence.

Harry knew that Eggsy was drowned in sorrow and pain all this time. 

Death followed wherever they went, and Kingsman agents were familiar with it, too. They were comfortable talking about it, too. Every Kingsman agent talked about their fantasy of their death like an Englishman talked about the weather or their morning tea.

Harry shared about his butterfly world, and Eggsy mentioned that he hoped heaven would look like Harry’s house, with Mr. Pickle and JB running around the dining table. 

Eggsy sobbed, “Tilde’s different. She had nothing to do with a world where death hovered.” The girl died from a gunshot, just like the poor dog who was shot by the person who raised it.

“What am I supposed to do, Harry? I still feel like this is all my fault.”

Harry did not reply. He merely petted Eggsy’s head gently, and carded his hair through his fingers, like he was combing the hair of a lost dog in a heavy rain.

Harry did not know how to console Eggsy, because he, too, felt responsible for the Princess’ death. The former Whiskey praised him for his keen intuition, but how come this time, he did not realize that something was wrong?

Why did Valentine only imprison Tilde but left everyone else in the royal family alone? Why didn’t he take the King and Queen as hostages? They weren’t kidnaped, nor did they die in the brain-exploding incident that occurred later.

The day Eggsy went to visit the palace, the bomb could’ve gone off in any time and Eggsy would be blown to pieces. But the bomb went off the second the banquet started.

Videos of Poppy Adams were spreading around the world, and everyone knew the Golden Circle represented the crime syndicate. Princess Tilde was even among the victims, so why did the King provide two golden rings for their wedding? How come he didn’t think of what the golden circles represented into consideration?

There were too many details that could not bear closer scrutiny. But when you do, you would find nothing but the spine-chilling truth.

Perhaps at some point, the king had decided to let his daughter’s lover go, but in the end, along with his daughter, he betrayed them both. 

“We made a mistake,” Harry said to the young man who had grown up from a boy, who still cried but knew how to move forward. “We made a mistake, but we can make things right again. By doing what we do best, by being a Kingsman agent and save the world.”

* * *

Kingsman and Statesman worked together to unravel the truth. They divided the powerful people all around the world into two categories: the ones before Valentine, and the ones after Valentine to cross-reference the people who were already in power before the brain-exploding incident. These people, to some extent, must be connected to Valentine.

Due to Capitalism prevailing, big corporations would only grow bigger but more and more invisible at the same time. So, not only they had to investigate the names on the books, but they also had to consider whether there was someone pulling the strings behind the curtain.

“In the US, four food corporations control over 80% of beef. After Valentine happened, three of which lost most of their management and their stock prices have plummeted. We have to consider how deep the remaining one corporation’ ties with Valentine are. Worst case scenario, in recent years, the E. coli bacteria-infected beef burgers were not a just a mistake by the concentrated industry, but a preplanned poisoning.” Their substitute Quartermaster, relaxed, sipped from his mug and told them his analysis.

Eggsy set his burger down right after he heard the man’s words. This was the first burger he had after his grand fight with Whiskey. He had thought he missed melted cheese and juicy burger meats enough to overcome his unfortunate shadows of mincers and weird burger diners.

It took the new Quartermaster two minutes to destroy Eggsy’s love for burgers.

Eggsy decided that he was going to hate the new Quartermaster a bit more. No matter how much he resembled Merlin, he would never be Merlin. The first time he saw the new Quatermaster, Eggsy let out a streak of swear words that were so horrible that he should wash his mouth with soap.

They were so alike. It was like he was Merlin’s clone.

But Eggsy couldn’t tell the man before him “Welcome back.”

But the man extended his skinny hand first. His eyes were gentle and his voice soft as a whisper, “Hello. I’m Merlin’s doom’s day protocol, Q.”

He wore a v-neck sweater and liked to drink tea from a mug when he typed. He owned a Tartan coat that looked very familiar and wore semi-rimless glasses…If Q didn’t have his mop of unruly hair, Eggsy would be suspecting that Q was Merlin’s reincarnation or some lab-grown clone.

Although it did not stop Eggsy from examining Q’s hair to find traces of a wig when the latter was distracted. Eggsy claimed that he was looking for a bar code and was not implying that Q was bold like Merlin.

Eggsy hated Q because he resembled Merlin too much; on the other hand, he was fond of him. Because Q said that he was just substituting and wasn’t planning to inherit the title ‘Merlin’.

“I’m on pay leave for only 18 months. I have to go back to work then. So, in the meantime, I will do my very best to help you reconstruct your cyber systems and your armory. And with Whiskey-I mean the new one, we will find a suitable candidate for Merlin.”

“What kind of job allows pay leave for a year and half? Hold on, so you’re getting paid by your old job and working at Kingsman at the same time?” For some reason, Eggsy focused on something which was…not the point.

“I have a mortgage and two cats to feed,” Q sipped a cup of tea Kingsman provided, and murmured something about how private intelligence agencies were definitely better.

And then, with Whiskey, he started to rebuild the firewall and cataloging the weapons they had.

Harry and Eggsy did a little snooping on Q by asking Whiskey. He said, Q appeared in Statesman’s systems without warning, and introduced himself via video-chat. 

“He hacked Statesman’s firewall?” Harry asked.

“I wouldn’t say that he ‘hacked’. He used the backdoor I left for Merlin…Q’s more like someone with a key and opened the door to walk right in. As for his claim of being Merlin’s dooms day protocol…judging by the information he had on Merlin and the way he codes, I have no doubt that he is Merlin’s student. He knows that Merlin is dead and had left Kingsman’s digital world to him.”

So that was it…wasn’t it? Kingsman, without Merlin, became an orphan again. Eggsy had followed Merlin’s orders and did not cry before everything was settled. But on the day Q arrived, when Eggsy heard Whiskey say Merlin ‘left Kingsman’s digital world to Q’, he clenched his teeth from making a sound, but unstoppable tears streamed down his face.

Eggsy hated Q because it meant that Merlin was really dead, now that Q showed up. Eggsy had a silver lining of hope since they couldn’t find a body, but that hope had died as Merlin’s dooms day protocol, Q appeared on their doorstep.

But Eggsy liked Q. He appeared because Merlin loved them. Merlin was always prepared and thought of his knights even from beyond the grave. 

“If you continue to look at me with your teary eyes, I might load some blinding gas prototypes to places where they don’t belong. Maybe you’d be blinded for fifteen minutes the next time you open your umbrella.”

Q’s threat was rather direct and there was no way for Eggsy to miss it, so he put his gaze back to the screen. 

“So, are we going after tycoons of the meat industry now?” 

“No. The meat industry is just an example. What I’m saying is we should be focusing on the two major catastrophes Valentine and Miss Poppy caused. Those in power and remained unscathed are our priorities.”

“Like my ex-father-in-law, His fucking Royal _Majesty_ Erik.” Eggsy emphasized ‘Majesty’. Q, on the other hand, jumped like a cat whose tail was stepped on. “I thought the Swedish King is Gustaf the 19th , not ‘Erik’.”

“Just like my name’s Gary but everyone calls me Eggsy. His fucking Royal _Majesty_ allows the people close to him to call him Erik. It’s a show of affection. Only a few people are allowed to do that. Tilde said…” Speaking of her, Eggsy’s voice wavered. “...She said that a lot of Swedish Kings were named Erik, like it was a popular name. There are also other members in the Royal family called Erik…”

Before Eggsy finished, Q interrupted, “Did you know Valentine’s outgoing calls were recorded? When his plan was about to fail,he called a ‘E’ to borrow his satellite.”

Eggsy’s jaw fell.

“We couldn’t find E’s number, neither did we ever think that ‘E’ is a King…after all, no one knows the King’s nickname.” Q opened a file on the Swedish King and added the King’s nickname on the file.

Eggsy looked at the file and saw a line in bold red: suspected of receiving Kingsman training. 

He pointed at it and asked, “Why ‘suspected’? Erik knew that the last part of Kingsman’s training was to shoot the dog, and he even said, ‘shoot the dog his raised’. He was definitely trained!” 

Q said, “Gustaf was a crowned prince, and now he is King. What happened at each stage of his life can be found on record. Maybe he found a way to establish contact with Valentine and the Golden Circle, too, but it is almost impossible for him to disappear for such a long period of time to train at Kingsman.”

“Is it possible that…you know, since besides Kingsman, there’s Statesman, maybe there’s some…man organization from Northern Europe…like ‘Snowman’ or something? Maybe Erik trained there and got training like ours?” 

“Certainly, we can’t rule out that possibility,” Q frowned suddenly and continued in a disgusted tone, “except for the ‘Snowman’ part. In what world would a self-respecting spy stand _that_ name?”

However, Q seemed unwilling to dwell on discussing the possibility of having an unknown organization, so he started to put together all the information he had on Swedish satellites, and had Eggsy inform everyone to come to the meeting room for debrief.

* * *

The new meeting room was an exact replica of the one with windows on one side and paintings on the other and that got blown up.

Although the new one was located in the bunker deep beneath ground surface and was able to survive nuclear attacks.

They planted the window frame first, and hid fluorescent tubes behind the white curtains to create the illusion of having afternoon sunlight.

Everything looked the same but not really.

Before everything happened, if you put on the glasses, one could see the knights nodding and talking to each other; but nowadays, half of them were gone.

Harry sat down on the seat that belonged to Arthur, glanced at the empty chairs, and brought up having Q recruit new knights. Unsurprisingly, he did not succeed.

“Recruiting knights and training them is Merlin’s job, and I’m not _Merlin_.” Q was not annoyed by Harry’s constant recruitment, because it was quite flattering and who didn’t like to be flattered? However, he reminded King Arthur, who was feigning forgetfulness, “I’m only on pay leave for 18 months-”

“-with a mortgage..” Tequila spoke up for him.

“…and two cats to feed.” Eggsy chimed in.

Q wasn’t planning to elaborate on his condition and ignored the teasing looks the two agents gave him. He clicked a file on his tablet and projected it to the big screen.

“We’ve confirmed that King Gustaf is connected to the Golden Circle and is our most valuable suspect.” Eggsy interrupted, “also the most the shit-faced bad guy.”

Q frowned, but Tequila agreed. “Damn right he is.”

“Look what the hip-hop culture from our American cousins has done to British gentlemen.” Q turned to look at Harry and sighed, completely ignoring the two agents who were fist-bumping each other right beside them. “The Swedish satellites have an advantage: they orbit around the polar circle and they are more efficient in downloading and uploading data. The Kiruna satellite station even works with multiple countries on satellite projects.”

“If Gustaf is the ‘E’ Valentine spoke with on the phone, it is highly likely that satellites are a big part of Golden Circle’s grand scheme. Valentine may be dead but has his neuro-controlling technology vanished with him? Right now, the most important thing is to prevent another mass murdering.” 

Q’s face remained indifferent, but in retrospect, it was such a terrifying thing.

Everyone at MI6 used an issued phone, so there were only serval agents that went uncontrollably aggressive, and the situation got under control quickly.

However, things were quite different at Q branch.

It was natural of a geek having interest in the phones that were recently released, and almost everyone at Q branch owned a Valentine phone…

“Us field agents don’t have to know that much stuff.” Tequila interrupted rudely, “ I’m just making sure that our mission is to capture Gustaf and beat the shit out of him for info?” 

“Basically, yes, with the exception of the ‘shit’ part.” Q replied with a complicated face as if he touched something filthy.

“I’ll drill some manners into the young man. Times are desperate, but it doesn’t mean we have to throw away our manners.” Harry thought that it was because the vulgar word had struck Q’s nerve, so he intervened immediately. Little did he know that Q was a bit grateful at Tequila for interrupting so he didn’t drown in the painful memories of the Valentine incident.

Q used the time to get his mind clear and finished his debrief. He clicked the files on his computer and sent the mission plan on approaching Gustaf to Eggsy and Tequila’s glasses and sent the pair to prepare for their mission.

After the two of them were gone, Harry spoke up first, and it wasn’t about business. “When you’re finished, come join me for some afternoon tea. I have some exceptional ones.”

Times were desperate, and stabilizing the organization was top priority. Harry treated Q well was because as Arthur, he was desperate for a Merlin.

For Kingsman, losing Merlin was a loss that was much bigger than losing any knight.

When Merlin was alive, he made sure of Medical and Logistics, also named as Avalon, were thriving and prosper.

The people in Avalon only survived because Poppy Adams had underestimated them and had spared them from being attacked by a missile.

But there was no one in Avalon that could succeed as Merlin.

To be Merlin, you have to be talented, mysterious, clever, and have magic that no one knows of. Avalon has agreed that Q was the best person to be Merlin, so Harry was doing everything to let Q understand the perks of being a Kingsman. If Harry could get a Merlin in exchange for an afternoon tea, he’d do it a thousand times.

“Thank you. If you’re going to arrange anything, my taste is rather similar to Merlin’s.”

The second he heard Q’s reply, Harry, who often thought himself as a gentleman, realized that he never even asked Q what he would like. He had everything planned out the moment he invited Q, but his plan was based on Merlin’s preferences when he was alive. 

Q was, without a doubt, Merlin’s student. He was so perceptive that it hurt. Harry thought.

Suddenly, Q set his mug full of Earl Gray down, and used his lazy and cynical voice asked another sharp question that was based on his keen observation. “Oh, right. I need an answer, on your relationship.”

“Why do you ask?” They were both smart people and Harry knew exactly what Q was referring to, but he did not want to answer. And deep down, he knew he was avoiding it, too.

“Variant control,” Q set his mug down, serious. “Most workplaces are against office romance, and in our world, even more so. But there is no way to make sure office romances will never happen. I just need to know the nature of your current relationship and take the variances into consideration when I’m running the mission. Is the feeling mutual? Or is it a one-sided crush in despair? Does it affect your emotions? If yes, to what extent? Will you make irrational judgements during your mission, such as abandoning your mission and asset to take a bullet for your lover?” 

“The mission always comes first. You have my word.” Harry said firmly, his tone calm but a bit self-mocking. “Are you only asking me this? Does this mean you think you don’t have to ask Eggsy…” Q did not ask Eggsy the same question, meaning he thought Eggsy did not have the same reservations, only Harry was the variant one. “Bystanders see more than the player?” Harry took off his glasses and wiped them. Not that there was actual dust on them, but in that moment, everything became a little blurry.

Pygmalion. This was the answer Harry came to. Not the psychological effect, but the sculptor from ancient Greece who fell in love with the sculpture he made. Harry had told Eggsy not to belittle himself because of where he came from. He had used _Pretty Little Woman_ and _Nikita_ as example, and while it was not his intention, his words betrayed his heart.

When did he fall in love with the boy? He tried not to think of it and save himself from the shock. Falling in love at first sight was something too innocent and was not a luxury for a modern knight who had went through too much. Skipped heartbeats were not just beeps on his watch or the physical exams reports Merlin raised his eyebrows at; instead, he could feel Cupid’s arrow straight into his heart when he boy called out his name.

It hurt. It bloody hurt so much. It hurt ten times more than the real arrows he got hit with before. 

When he felt the shot to his head, the bullet shattered his retina and lens, and when Harry saw his entire life flash before his eyes-the last picture he saw was also the brightest picture he saw, the picture of a young, innocent, gentle boy acting all tough to hide his nature.

Harry was eternally grateful that it was the last thing he saw before he died.

For all the blood on his glasses was not able to taint the image in his head, the image of an innocent, pure boy. The boy radiated light so bright like a summer afternoon, and the light stayed with him, and kept the cold, empty black at bay.

Q startled Harry greatly when he next spoke, “Pygmalion. This is just my assumption. People always fall in love with their creation. A psychological damage that has not evolved for one bit.”

“Sometimes, I almost take you for Merlin.”

“I thought my abundant hair was a striking characteristic for people to differentiate the two of us.”

“Magic. I’m taking about the magic Merlin has. It’s like you have the magic to see through people’s hearts.” Harry did not say anything about Pygmalion out loud, but Q knew exactly what he was thinking.

“It doesn’t take magic to know what you’re thinking. The way you look at Eggsy told me everything. You think you’re good at hiding it, but I have more than two eyes. My eyes are everywhere.” Q spread his hands put, and the surveillance cameras at all corners blinked their red lights like a symphony.

“It is magic. Magic of the technological era.” Harry complimented the young Quartermaster, “Will you keep my secret for me?” 

“There’s no reason for me not to,” Q tilted his head as if he were rethinking his promise. “Unless the mission requires or other significant reasons.” 

Harry smiled in relief, but he controlled the corner of his mouth from tugging up too much. “I should go to Inventory to watch those two bad boys. Keep an eye on them so they don’t rob everything or bomb the place.”

When Harry’s long legs stepped out the room, Q remembered something. “Oh, and Galahad? Arthur? Do I still call you Arthur outside of work? Whatever. Harry or Arthur, the reason I only asked you about your love life is because you’re the variant, since I’m rather certain what Eggsy’s answer would be. He’d take it for you, may it be bullets or an incoming RPG.” When he finished, the door was shut at the same time, and there was a large sound of the door being locked.

Harry couldn’t even re-enter and ask Q what he meant. This was the first time he cursed the existence of the new meeting room whose high tech were being controlled by the Quartermaster.

Just as Harry was studying the door, Q’s voice came from the hidden speakers in the hallway “Arthur? I suggest you give up whatever ill-intentions you have against the lock and head down to Inventory now. The bad boys will tear the place apart any time.”

* * *

 _Inventory_ was a simple name, so simple that people may think that it was just a room, not a large underground warehouse as big as a soccer-field. Unlike the armory where they kept all kinds of flammable and highly explosive accessories, things in the Inventory were not used to attack people. That being said, the Inventory has a vast collection of everything. From priest’s robe to tutus and from fluffy teddy bears to stuffed real alligators. They even have a room full of authentic painting hanging in a temperature and moisture-controlled room. Ancient books sat on shelves with maintenance provided by robot arms.

Tequila and Eggsy stood around where the paintings were and argued loudly about which painting they should use in the mission.

They made up a cover story of how an American entrepreneur found several paintings in the broken cabin he procured lately. Authentication confirmed that one of the paintings was a stolen one from Holland Museum. Tequila would return the artwork and take advantage of the opportunity to expand his social circle in the museum. He would become the date of one of the higher-ups of the museum to gain access to the event the museum was hosting. They already knew that King Gustaf would attend, so they could approach the King during the event to plant a bug on him and find out his relationship with Valentine and the Golden Circle.

Earlier this day, Roxy had worn her glasses and her backpack, and entered Oxford as a student to seduce a certain Saudi Arabic Prince. According to their research, the prince preferred beautiful women, but he liked intelligent, beautiful woman even more. His previous love conquests were either elite scientists or PhDs from top universities. Logistics prepared an entire scene for her-a bicycle accident with spilt coffee, featuring coffee-stained academic reports, followed by a series of tacky, romantic stories of a charming prince and an ‘unknowing’ fair lady.

As for the reason why they had to go through all that trouble just to plant a bug? It was simply because…this ain’t that kind of movie. The kind where the main character could attend to a party with a perfect suit and an invitation card he stole from god knows where. In reality, each guest had their own invitation card, and every guard has a tablet to double-check the guest list. As for kidnapping someone invited, make a human mask and vocal fold controls?

Again, this ain’t that kind of movie.

And even if they attended the same event, Gustaf was a King and would definitely not come into contact with a nobody, especially with Gustaf knowing that he was on Kingsman’s top list and would not let his guard down.

Kingsman had to focus on becoming the plus-ones. Their goal was to become a power-up’s plus-one at the event and use their date as a pass to Gustaf.

But currently, Eggsy and Tequila were at a standoff. Tequila insisted that if they were going to return a single painting, why not just return the whole collection? Returning the entire collection would, without doubt, be fruitful for establishing contacts in the museum’s social circle for their mission. Eggsy countered that while Kingsman had collected the paintings to return them one day, returning too many pieces at a time would only attract unwanted attention.

“I agree with Eggsy,” Harry said.

Tequila retorted, “Of course you do, his idea is as conservative as you are.”

“3:1, you lose.” No one noticed when did Roxy joined in their conversation, but she entered the Inventory like a boss. As she walked towards them, she took off her clothes like she was filming a perfume commercial. However, there was nothing flirty about her movements, there was only irritation. She kicked her heels off, tore her fake eyelashes off, wiped her lipstick away with the back of her hand and put her ‘romantic’, wavy hair up in a tight ponytail as fast as she could.

Eggsy asked her, “Didn’t go well, did it?”

“It went too well, actually. It went so well that I have completely lost faith in men.”

With one sentence, Eggsy knew that he might have to bring an extra-large bucket of ice cream and Starbucks over to his bro’s (sis’?) for a movie night.

“Maple walnut?”

“Make it two and bring another box of strawberries.” 

Eggsy bowed slightly to show his compliance and blinked at the interface of his glasses to let Logistics run an errant for him. He did not care Andrew from Logistics claimed that only girls have ice cream with TV, because the flamingo slippers Roxy provided were the most comfortable shoes in the world.

Although Eggsy did not mind of being called ‘a girl’, Eggsy and the 100% girl, Roxy, beat up Andrew’s ass so bad that he was scared to get up and had to slowly crawl back to where he belonged. They did not feel bad about it for one second, because the ‘girls’ in Logistics were ten times worse than them. Their department even sent an official note to all knights, that they could have Andrew run their errands.

Tequila heard ‘ice cream’ and licked his lips, as if he were about to ask them whether he could join in their movie night again. But before he said anything, Eggsy heard Roxy said, “Good luck on your mission.”

Eggsy quickly added, “We’ll be watching you while we eat ice cream.”

Tequila looked slightly mad, “You mean make fun of me, right? Q’s not gonna let you do that!”

“Actually, Q will be watching at my place too.” Roxy explained. “He’s got his own furry slippers and robe as well.”

Tequila had no choice but to quietly complain how united the British agents were, but he carefully wrapped the painting under Harry’s instructions anyway and followed the latter to pick up his weapon at the Armory.

London was not Kentucky, so Tequila was forced to change into something more appropriate for a gentleman to blend in. Putting down his shotgun was quite a change for Tequila, so in the meantime, Harry trained with Tequila. He claimed that it was part of his rehab and he was trying to know more about the American fighting style, but of course, Tequila knew Harry was being kind.

What Tequila didn’t know, that it was one of the many ways how Harry avoided to spend time with Eggsy.

“You see that, Rox? ‘arry’s doing it again! He left without a single word with me!” Eggsy complained the moment the door closed.

“Stop acting like a kicked puppy! Harry has business to take care of. We all do.”

Eggsy muttered, “What kind of business is watching _24_ with two buckets of ice cream?”

“We will be watching Tequila’s mission in the split screen. It’s business.” Roxy said as she and Eggsy headed towards the parking lot. 

“Is Q really coming?” There was tension in Eggsy’s voice. He was on a lot of missions lately, and he wasn’t sure if Roxy became friends with Q without him knowing. 

“I was just using Q to scare Tequila away…” 

“Fuck yeah, Q is scary. You are scarin’ me too.” Eggsy dramatically sighed as if he was scared out of his mind.

“I don’t know why Tequila is afraid of him. But to me, Q’s scary because he is just like Merlin. Sometimes I feel like Merlin isn’t dead at all, he just died and reborned and grew up to be Q in one night.” Roxy paused, her voice laced with rare sadness and hesitation, “I don’t think it’s healthy for special agents like us, you know, to keep these fantasies and anticipations.”

They did not find a corpse, so there was a tiny thread of hope in everyone’s heart. Hoping that Merlin was rescued by some secret organization just like Harry did, and was put together with something million times more unimaginable than alpha gel. 

Eggsy made a face. “It’s no big deal. I always wondered if Q was some petri-dish born clone or robot too.”

Roxy waved dismissively. “Enough now, we have to stop. I’m not keen on robots lately, so don’t spoil my appetite. The doctors are going to suspend me if I don’t put on some weight!”

Gaining weight indeed was Roxy’s top priority.

Roxy switched on emergency mode the second she saw the missile that was flying towards her. She dropped right into the bunker beneath Kingsman which was 60 meters below the ground surface. The bunker had doors that weighed two tons and could withstand nuclear weapons. However, the system to reopen the bunker failed, so she couldn’t open the bunker from the inside, and from the outside, no one could even detect a signature of life.

Roxy was trapped underground for a long time, and in the meantime, all she has was crackers, protein shakes and vegetable powders to eat.

When she finally fixed the systems and resurfaced, she was as thin as the dystrophic models who belong on a runway, her original fit but athletic body gone.

“I got the guys at logistics to buy some groceries. I’ll cook for you later.” Eggsy said.

“I thought the only kind of food you were good at making is baby food…you know, like the ones you made for your sister.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes, “I’m a gentleman, alrigh’? Cookin’ is basic skill for a gentleman.”

Roxy rolled her eyes at his words. She knew that Eggsy would not cook for her without an ulterior motive. This meal was just a part of a bigger plan.

…tbc

**Author's Note:**

> I'm looking for a beta reader who is familiar with Eggsy's accent since my native language is not English and I might make some serious mistake in my translation.  
> Please leave a comment if you're interested.


End file.
